


made my decision to test my limits

by happywriter16



Series: if you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun [2]
Category: Justified
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barebacking, Black Character(s), Canon Character of Color, F/M, Female Character of Color, Interracial Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, it's my fic i can do what i want, sex with your boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 08:12:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16657405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happywriter16/pseuds/happywriter16
Summary: taking control of this momenti’m locked and loadedcompletely focused, my mind is open





	made my decision to test my limits

**Author's Note:**

> Title and lyrics from Dangerous Woman by Arianna Grande
> 
> Sequel to 'didn’t they tell you I was a savage'. It's not absolutely necessary that you read that one first, but it'd help.

“If I had known I was having company, I would’ve dressed for the occasion.” He’s wearing blue jeans, a white wife beater (an unfortunate name for a piece of clothing), and flip flips, which strikes her as odd. She’s never seen him wearing anything other than cowboy boots. He’s leaning in the doorway watching her watch him. 

Even under the circumstances, he looks good, better than she would’ve expected. She can’t even say he needs a haircut since the longer hair suits him. He might be a little thinner than he was the last time she saw him in the hospital, though she can’t really tell since he’s always been tall and thin. He’s tanner than he usually his, which makes her wonder if he’s been out walking the land surrounding the house. And he looks like she woke him up, so he’s getting rest. 

“What are you doing here Rachel?”

“Art sent me.” He cocks his head more to the right, his forehead furrowed. “He’s not in town and couldn’t come himself. He’s worried about you.”

He doesn’t comment, just turns to go inside after a moment or so of just looking at her. She follows, up the dirt path and the wooden steps. She’d rung the bell a few times and waited. After ten minutes of waiting with no answer, she’d walked back to her car where’d she left her cell phone. She was just about to call him when the door opened. 

She and Art talk regularly, once or twice a month, so it wasn’t weird when he called. She hadn’t expected his request to check on Raylan. Art had said it himself when he first learned that Raylan had been shot: “It’s not like it’s the first time.” No, it wasn’t the first time, just the first in a long time. This one could’ve killed him if not for some dumb luck. And the shot, unlike ones in the past, actually did some real damage, which meant he’s been out of the office for nearly two months. Art explained he’d called today and Raylan didn’t sound like himself, wasn’t shooting the shit like normal, was actually using his words for more than just jokes. 

Art had been one of her instructors at Glynco. He actually treated her like she belonged there and took her under his wing. He couldn’t pull enough strings to get her to Kentucky with him after he left Glynco so she worked in Arizona until a spot in Kentucky opened up. By the time she got there, he’d retired and Raylan had taken took over. She was glad to be in Kentucky anyway. Anything was better than hotter than hell Arizona. 

By the time she gets inside, he’s by a credenza that has glasses and bottles on it. “Drink?”

“Should you be drinking on the medications you’re taking?”

His back is to her but he looks over his shoulder as he asks, “They do the same job, right?”

“No.”

He’s handing her a glass when he says, “My doctor says I’m healing just fine though he prefer it if I didn’t drink. He says if I must partake, I’ll be alright.” He takes a sip, a smile in his eyes before he says, “Besides, it’s a special occasion. You’ve honored me with your presence.” His eyes move down her body slow like molasses. She’s overdressed for a house call, Art having caught her as she was driving away from lunch with the girls. She’s wearing a white satin sleeveless top, paired with a flowing yellow skirt that hits at her knees, and brown strappy sandals. She’s wearing makeup, hoop earrings, and her hair is down. A small thrill runs through her that he's noticing just how good she looks, which she absolutely doesn't let show on her face.

She still hasn’t taken a taste, the neutral expression she had been wearing on her face, falling into one of annoyance the longer he stares. 

“No liquid courage needed this time?” She wants to slap that smirk off his face. It’s not the first time she’s wanted to do that since that night, since the hotel on the way back from Harlan. He’s alternated between ignoring her to subtly reminding her about what happened in the hotel. He knows she wants him. It doesn’t matter that he wants her just as much. The fact of the matter is she shouldn’t want him. He's a constant reminder of her not being better. 

“I told you why I came. You seem like your normal self to me. I guess Art was worried for nothing.” Rachel's got her arms crossed now, the glass pressed into her left arm, eyes narrowed at him. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” His face changes after the words have left his mouth, like it was an admission he hadn’t planned on making. He subtly shakes himself. “So maybe it’s my current company that’s got me feeling better.” 

Rachel can’t help it; she rolls her eyes. She turns from him, the still untouched drink in her hands. She walks the first floor, going from room to room, not looking for anything just wanting to put space between them. It appears he is eating by the dishes in the sink and food in the fridge, just enough for a few days. She’d heard he still owned the place where he grew up. The furniture looks like it’s the same from his childhood. Everything’s old, the faded wallpaper with flowers the only evidence that a woman – his mama then his aunt or so she’s been told – ever lived in this place. 

When she gets back to the living room, he’s on the couch – feet propped up on the wooden coffee table next to his empty glass. His head is tipped back, eyes closed. He doesn’t move as if he’s really sleeping. 

She studies him. _Damn_ the sun for the way it’s falling across his face through the front window. He looks as sexy in repose as he does in action. It’s definitely not fair.

She’s only human. 

_No one_ makes the right choice every time. 

This is what she wants. 

This is _who_ she wants. 

Rachel walks towards him, stopping mere inches from him. He doesn’t stir. She downs her drink in a few easy gulps then sets her glass down beside his, the glasses tinkling as they touch. That’s when he opens his eyes. 

“Your doctor says you’re healing fine?” the change in voice letting him know she’s asking to be sure. 

“Just fine.”

She nudges at his legs and he moves his feet back to the floor as his eyes open. Rachel moves to stand in front of him. “Come here.” He smiles up at her. It’s what he’d said to her that night in the office. Like she did, he obeys. She can’t help but smile back as he leans forward.

He reaches up, slides his fingers between her skirt and her waist and pulls. Her panties and skirt are gone in one go, the fabric settling around her ankles.

She watches him lick his lips before leaning forward to press kisses to the bare skin above her mound. Raylan moves further down, kissing as he goes before he slides his tongue between her folds. She puts her hands on his shoulders, fingers flexing with every swipe of his tongue. 

She’s imagined this. Depending on her mood in her fantasies, he’s slow and teasing, her hips coming off the bed to chase his mouth. He’d push her back down, make her wait for him to taste her again. Other times, he’d be relentless – his forearms pushing her thighs open, his fingers keeping her lips open and the hood of clit back so he can flick and suck as hard as he’d like. 

“The angle’s wrong,” he tells after awhile. He pulls back and makes to lie down on the couch but not before pulling off his shirt and lifting his ass to push off his jeans. 

Her eyes focus first on the bandage just under his ribcage on his left side. It’s smaller than she expected. She’s glad of that, enough confirmation for her that he’s on the mend. Then she’s focusing on his cock, flush with blood, fully erect. 

She’s imagined this, too, her, down on her knees, watching him take his cock out. He’d push the head against her lips. She’d feel the precum being spread. She’d let him feed it to her. It was always him doing most of the work, pushing it in and taking it out, his hand wrapped around the back of her head. He always made tears fall, made sure she swallowed, and the kissed her hard and fast, spurred on by what he saw and the taste of him in her mouth. 

After he’s settled, she places each knee on the side of his head and lowers herself down. After awhile she has to pull off her top and bra, the material sticking to her skin, as she rocks back and forth. He’s taking his time, almost lazy with it then increasing the speed of his tongue inside her or the suction around her click, then back to slow again.

His hands grip her ass cheeks, massaging the flesh. The first time his fingers touch her hole, she jerks, a white hot flare of heat coursing through her, makes her moan louder. It gets her closer to her peak so he keeps touching her there, not pressing in, just sliding his fingers over the skin as he works her with his tongue. 

She chants yeah and fuck and a mess of other things until it’s just more breath than words filling the air until she’s not able to make words at all anymore. She can only brace herself against the arm of the couch, her hips working against his mouth until she’s keening. 

He manhandles her – hurt side and all – until she’s lying on top of him. After she’s had time to catch her breath, she looks up at him. She notices two things at once: her slick all over his face and his cock pressing against her ass. Rachel leans up to kiss him, hard and fast, unexpectedly relishing her taste on his tongue. At some point she realizes this is the first time they’ve kissed. She can’t help but laugh against his mouth. 

“What?” 

Rachel pulls away from him. “Nothing, just third time’s charm as far as kissing goes.”

He laughs, says, “I suppose so,” then pulls her in for another kiss, pulling at her so that she has no choice but to move to straddle him. 

His cock pressing into her ass has her pulling away to say, “I think it’s about time I kissed something else.” She lowers her body until her face is right above his cock. 

“You’re not going to be down there long.” His voice is thicker than before. 

“Is that so?” She smirks, his cock in a loose grip in her hands before she licks a long stripe up the underside. 

“I’m going to make you come again on my cock.”

“Promises,” she says then swallows him down. 

He’s true to word. She isn’t down there long. Long enough to swallow him down a few times, feel the solid weight of him on her tongue, let the precum slide over her tongue and down her throat, get him moaning as her tongue swirls around the head. When he moaned, the sound vibrated through him, or so it seemed, which spurred her on. 

He pushes at her and her mouth slides off him with a slurp, which has him laughing as he pants. 

As she slides down on him, even as wet as she is, there’s still some friction, a bit of resistance that has her breathing hard through her nose, bottom lip between her teeth. That and it feels good, especially that moment when he’s all the way inside. Rachel watches Raylan watch her, eyes half open in a daze. Once he’s fully inside her, she stays still for a moment, adjusting to the feel of him inside her again. 

After a moment or two, she decides that it he’s healing just fine, she’d like to keep it that way. If she’s going to come on his cock again, it’s going be her doing. She moves her legs and feet so that she’s squatting on him, thinking all those squats at the gym better pay off now. 

She rises up and back down, teasing when it’s just the tip breaching her. She’s slow at first, watching the way his face changes. 

“Faster,” he tells after he’s had enough of her teasing. She obliges. His head tips back, sweat slides down his bared neck. She goes as fast as she can, thighs burning with effort after a while, but she keeps at it. He finally tenses, thrusting up hard – it just this side of painful – against her before he’s spilling inside of her. 

She stretches out over him, sweat and cum being spread between their bodies, careful not to press on his injury. The air in the house was already heavy with humidity, now it’s heavier, smelling like sex. He’s a gorgeous mess – hair plastered to his forehead, face flushed and glistening. She wonders if she looks the same to him. Rachel can feel where her hair sticks to her, can feel the sweat across her upper lip. 

He smiles at her. 

“I didn’t beg, you know,” she tells him, her tone playful. 

“Well, I’ll just have to keep on trying.”

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, Arlo died a year before Rachel came to the Kentucky Field Office. Raylan still owns the house and the land he grew up because he hasn’t been able to sell it yet. As much as he hates the place, he’s tied to it with his mother and aunt buried on the land. So he went to stay there a few days since he can’t work and it’s driving him crazy. Art called him and he happened to be in Harlan. He happened to be in a rare moment of introspection and Art was like, I have to get Rachel to check on him.


End file.
